


Oldie but a Goodie

by brejamison



Series: Dick Grayson Must Die [5]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Titans (TV 2018)
Genre: Bombs, Exhaustion, Explosions, F/M, Fire, Gen, Hallucinations, Headaches & Migraines, Hiding Medical Issues, Hostage Situations, Hurt, Hurt Dick Grayson, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Insomnia, Major Character Injury, Pain, Passing Out, Tired Dick Grayson, Whump, smoke inhalation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:55:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23235076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brejamison/pseuds/brejamison
Summary: In which Dick tries to hide an injury from the Titans after four long days of crimefighting, resulting in hallucinations and passing out.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Garfield Logan, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson & Koriand'r & Garfield Logan & Raven, Dick Grayson & Raven, Dick Grayson/Koriand'r
Series: Dick Grayson Must Die [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1670542
Comments: 25
Kudos: 200





	1. Chapter 1

The goon in a mask flipped Dick to his back, boot stomping on his chest. He drew a gun and aimed, pointer finger squeezing. A Robin emblem embedded into his forearm as he pulled the trigger. Jason flew through the air, kneeing the man in the side and shoving him off Nightwing. They rolled and grappled, Robin finally breaking his nose and knocking him out. Jason climbed to his feet, retrieving his emblem. 

"You good?" the teen asked. Dick staggered upright.

"Where are the others?" 

Jason swaggered off, snatching Dick's escrima from the floor. He handed it back, shoving his head to the side. "At the infil point. Got the rest of these asshats under wraps downstairs. I just came to get you." 

Dick took his baton, slipping it into the slot on his back (ow, his arm). "Good timing," he praised, sweaty and panting. 

Jason smirked proudly, a bounce in his steps. He was still young enough to get excited over stuff like this. Getting his ass beat didn't really hit him until the next morning when he was so bruised and sore he could barely move. For now, though, he was high on adrenaline and loving the ride. Dick sighed. It was a wonder everyone who wore a cape wasn't a junkie in their civilian lives, chasing the rush of a good ass-kicking.

They made their way to the doorway when Nightwing slowed. Robin paused next to him, watching curiously. If Dick thought something was wrong, something was wrong. 

And something was. 

"Do you hear that?" he asked, frowning and pivoting slowly. 

Jason squinted in concentration, straining his ears. "The generator?" 

"No, too far." The generator was outside, three floors beneath them. Sure, the noise would have easily traveled through the building's bare-bones scaffolding - its construction halted for an indeterminate amount of time as the owners waited for the protests to die down - but what Dick was hearing was very much in the immediate area, this room or the next. "Listen closer," he advised, stalking to the bodies. 

Jason titled his head and narrowed his hearing, trying to block out everything from a distance. He didn't hear anything beyond the flutter of some plastic draping. 

Dick nudged a goon over and squatted to inspect her pockets. A gun - which he tossed away - an extra clip, and a small device. Gingerly, he peeled the pocket open, craning his neck to inspect the device without having to touch it. A button. A big red button hooked up to a disposable cell phone. 

It was ringing. 

"Bomb!" he yelled, diving for the phone. 

"Shit!" Jason launched himself toward the edge of the building, skidding to a stop. "Bomb! Everybody out!" he yelled to the Titans downstairs. Immediately, Kory was ushering the Titans to the front gate of the construction site. Jason turned and ran back to Dick, who had the phone in his hand, following its signal around the room. He tossed his League phone to Jason, who switched to the radio tracker setting. 

"Short wave," Nightwing instructed, breaking into a jog. Jason kept pace easily, scanning the air for the signal. 

"Shit," he gasped, stumbling into a hard right turn. Signal located. The Bats ran to the source, finding a wad of wires and C4 hidden in a cement mixer. 

Dick tossed the disposable phone to Jason, tearing his gloves off. "There may be more," he said, slipping his hands into the small machine. 

"On it." Jason was already gone, racing across the floor in search of another signal. 

Dick gently removed the bomb from the mixer, braver now that was Jason was a distance away. It was simple enough, a remote timer connected to a phone. The digital display said four minutes and change and he thanked his lucky stars that Bruce had trained him to defuse a whole slew of bombs in under two. Eighty-seven seconds if he was really pressured. 

Following the wires around the lump of explosives, he found the fuse wire and yanked. The screen died down with an electric whine and Dick sighed. He was still holding a potentially volatile lump of C4 so technically he couldn't relax just yet. He could never relax.

He cradled the bomb in his arm and met Jason by the elevator, holding another one. 

"All good?" Dick wondered. Jason responded by twirling the thing in the air and catching it deftly. 

Oh, he was in for the lecture of his life when they got back to the Tower. 

"All good," the teen replied cheekily, quickly catching Dick's quote-unquote Parental Glare. "What?" 

"Don't do that." 

"What? I diffused it. It's harmless." Some wires crossed and it sparked. Jason yelped, dropping the bomb as Dick punted it into the elevator shaft, telling Robin to duck. They launched themselves backward (Dick landed on something wrong and felt it _crunch)_ just as the bomb hit a metal beam. It exploded, destroying the shaft. 

The Bats coughed, rolling upright. 

"Shit..." Jason breathed, watching debris clang down the useless elevator. 

"Harmless?" Dick asked pointedly, grunting as he stood. Once the ringing in their ears started to dim, they could hear the Titans yelling for them down below. Dick stumbled slightly ( _OW!_ ) and glanced back at their ruined transportation. He sent Jason another glare, huffing and stomping to the edge of the building. 

"What? It had faulty wiring," Robin bit back, trudging after him. 

Dick pointed to his temple. _"You_ have faulty wiring." He knelt, connecting a zip line to the edge of the metal framework and waving at the Titans. 

The teen pulled to a stop a few yards away, making a face. "Did... did you just make a joke?" 

"Would you rather I yell at you in front of the others?" 

Point taken, Jason bowed his head, squatting and attaching a line for himself. 

There were a thousand things Dick wanted to say, lectures and proverbs he wanted to dish out. But he was tired and Jason was looking admonished enough for now. So he let it slide. Of course, he couldn't really blame the teen for making a stupid mistake. He should know better, obviously, but he was young and could only handle so much. Their four-day streak of non-stop crime-fighting was taking its toll on the whole team and Dick had a feeling they weren't even in the worst of it yet. 

The Bats landed on the ground, Kory and Rachel approaching them urgently. 

"You okay?" the woman asked. Dick shoved his bomb at her, trying to shake the ringing from his ears. 

"What happened?" Rachel wondered. 

"Bomb went off." 

"Because you were playing with it."

"You kicked it down the elevator!" 

"Yeah, because it was about to go off in our faces." 

"I already told you it had faulty-"

"-wiring, sure." 

Gar poked his head around the corner, one finger in his ear as he held a League phone to the other. "Uh, guys? Conner is picking up on something else," he offered quietly. Dick stomped forward. 

"Where?" 

"Where?" Gas repeated into the phone. He paused for a response. "A 10-90? Out on Westchester?" 

Nightwing rolled his eyes, hand scrubbing at his face. 

"What's a 10-90?" Kory wondered, the rest of the Titans gathering around them. 

Rachel looked at Gar. "Westchester isn't far from here, right? Is it the north or south side?" 

Gar repeated the question, trying his best to translate Conner who was trying to decipher the police chatter he was superpowerly eavesdropping on. 

Jason crossed his arms, looking at Kory. "A 10-90 is a hold-up." 

"In _Gotham,_ it is," Dick corrected. "Police codes aren't universal. They change from district to district." 

"So what is it in _this_ disctrict?" Kory wondered. 

"A hold-up. But with hostages. In Gotham, it's more of a barricade situation." He turned to Gar, hand out. "Give me the phone." 

"Oh, thank god," the boy sighed, gladly handing it over. Dick held it to his ear, frowning and trying to hear Conner's confused jumble of words beyond the incessant ringing. He glanced at Rachel. "It's the north side." 

She nodded solemnly. That wasn't too far away. Westchester ran nearly the whole length of the business district. If the hold-up was on the south side, it would likely be wrapped up or close to it by the time they got here. And Dick was adamant that the Titans _not_ take over a situation from the badges, no matter how annoying they were. If they had it handled, it was theirs. 

"Conner, it's me. Just repeat exactly what you're hearing," Nightwing instructed into the device, hearing Conner's relieved sigh on the other end. Okay, so they definitely needed to add police code studies to their normal homework routine. It would slot in nicely between tactical maneuvers and artillery familiarization. 

_"Krypto is hearing some of them too,"_ the clone informed. 

Dick shook his head. "I don't want to hear those. No offense. Focus on anything that has to do with the 10-90 on Westchester." 

_"Okay,"_ he said. Then, quietly, _"Sorry, boy."_

Dick wasn't sorry. Krypto was a valuable resource and good boy and all, but this was people hero time, the kinds of heroes that could use their human words. He paused for a moment, eyes closed and teetering slightly because his ears were _still_ ringing and it was doing nothing for the tension headache that had been festering for, like, three days now. But before the Titans could comment, he had heard enough and made a decision. Unfortunately, the badges could use their help on this one and it was close enough to get to in a timely manner. 

Did he ever miss the Batmobile in times like these. 

"Let's move."

He received a series of tired sighs in reply which he sympathized with in his soul. They were tired, he was tired, and he knew it. Even Kory, with her actual inhuman strength and perseverance was starting to feel strained. Which meant that the kids - who barely had had time to sleep and eat between crime-fighting assignments in the last four days - were at their wit's end. Still, they were troopers and continued on without complaint, for the most part keeping their cools and managing to perform excellently. They deserved a week of sleep, pizza, and Netflix once this all ended. 

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

**ERIN McCRIMMONS BUILDING**  
**SAN FRANCISCO**

By the time they reached the municipal building where the hold-up was taking place, Dick's head was pounding loud enough to muffle every other noise that wasn't being fed directly into his earpiece. The ringing from the bomb had only intensified with his fatigue, the headache that came with it making him dizzy to lights and movement. He broke from the rest of them and approached the badges as they screeched to a stop on the sidewalk, lights and sirens blaring. Felt great.

"Officers," he greeted coldly. 

"Oh, Jesus Christ," the badge muttered, climbing out of her patrol car. "It's _you._ Come to fuck up a perfectly good police situation?" 

Jesus, he couldn't believe he had ever been one of these people.

Nightwing did what Nightwing does. He handled the badges, stalling by setting up boundaries and covering all the other important BS that would avoid the Titans getting shot. Behind him, Rachel and Conner (who had arrived, thanks Superboy for finally showing up) inspected the building, their powers allowing them to get a read from a minding-their-own-business distance. 

Dick pointed to the building, arm extended when the officer frowned at him. 

"Is that _blood?"_ she interrupted, grabbing her flashlight and aiming it to his tricep. 

First of all, rude to interrupt like that. And second of all, was he? He hadn't noticed. Nightwing frowned, looking at his arm that was suddenly very heavy. Sure enough, he had a nice bullet hole smack in the middle of his tricep. Must have gotten it from the good that had pinned him, holding a gun at his face. 

"Nightwing?" 

"Thanks for your concern," he said quickly, lowering his arm and pressing it to his side. He bowed his head professionally and said goodbye. Turning, (and the world kept going for a second. Did he stumble? Kind of felt like he stumbled... He really hoped he didn't stumble...) and made his way back to the Titans. 

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

**TITANS TOWER**  
**SAN FRANCISCO**

The Titans handled the situation with ease. Kory was on ground control because fire and floor to ceiling boxes of papers didn't mix. Not that she wasn't grateful for the break. Conner followed Jason because subtly wasn't his strong suit (thanks to his lineage) and heaven forbid Dick _not_ take advantage of a learning opportunity. Gar and Rachel were strung out to their limits - her especially after sweeping the building - so were in charge of finding and escorting any remaining civilians from the building. Which meant Dick went in to face the subject and hostage alone, hoping to stabilize the situation before Jason and Conner even snuck in from the back. 

And he had, though just barely so. The whole thing left him wobbly and lightheaded. The lights of the building had punched holes in his vision and now that he was aware of the gaping hole in his arm it ached with every minor twitch. Blood loss and lack of sleep double-teamed to slur his speech and muddle his mind. By the time they got back to the Tower, he could barely open his eyes much less stand. Rachel was trying to hide a nose bleed, Gar actually _growled_ when Jason accidentally brushed against him, and Kory headed straight for the booze, pouring two generous drinks. 

Dick wanted a drink. He wanted to share one with her, but he had been around exhaustion and injuries enough to know exactly the kind of effect alcohol would have on him in this state. And sacrificing tomorrow wasn't worth a little numbing buzz tonight. 

"Bed," he instructed. The kids stumbled to a stop, frowning at him. 

"Bed?"

They were expecting another briefing and maybe a quick snack and shower before heading out again. That's what they had been doing for the last four days, after all. Why should tonight be any different when there was still crime out there?

Sadly, he realized he had absolutely _ruined_ these kids if they thought that crime ever stopped and that it was their responsibility to stop all of it all the time.

He shook his head and regretted it as the dim lights smeared across his vision. "Yes. Bed. Go sleep. You all deserve it." 

"Like, through the night and everything?" Gar wondered hopefully. 

"And everything. Conner, you too. If you aren't tired, then go read quietly or something. Relax at the very least." 

The teens nodded gratefully, trudging to their rooms. Dick went to follow, but tripped, landing against the kitchen pillar for support. Why was he so warm? Oh yeah, because he had a bullet in his arm. That was still bleeding.

He heard glass slide across fine wood and his eyes sluggishly adjusted to find a cup of booze tempting him in the pale light. 

"You need to relax too," Kory smiled softly, waiting patiently with her own glass. 

God, he wanted to. 

"It won't help." He grunted and stood, one hand lingering on the pillar for support just in case he should tip backward. Or forward. Or any direction, really. "I'm gonna go lay down. You should too. I can't imagine how empty you are." 

She quirked an eyebrow at him suggestively. 

"Your _powers._ " Usually, this flirting of hers was cute. Even a turn on sometimes. But right now it made his whole body shudder painfully and he felt gutted for it. He missed her, he really did. But he just couldn't. "I meant your powers. We've been going hard for days now." 

She chuckled around the rim of her glass. _"Have_ we now?" 

He sighed. "I... you know what I meant." 

"I'm good," she admitted. He looked at her because that was totally a lie. "I'm a little drained. Tired, I guess. The last however-many-days it's been have been a bit overwhelming." She paused long enough to knock her drink back and pour herself some more. "Is it usually like this?" 

"No. God, no. Well..." He shrugged, remembering times that back in Gotham that were much worse. "Sometimes. It depends. Lots of outside factors influence crime. Everything from the stock market to social conscience." 

"Sounds complicated." 

"It helps if you know the city you're in. The people, how they think, what they react to. Stuff like that." 

Another sip. "You saying you saw this coming?" 

Listen. He loved her. Spending time with her was one of his favorite things. And she was such a goddamn delight to talk to. But he was so tired. He sighed, scrubbing at his face. "Kind of. It usually comes in waves. With everything that happened out in Star City this week, it doesn't surprise me." 

_"That_ triggered all of this?" 

"Some of it. Kory, I... can we talk about this tomorrow?" 

She blinked, suddenly coming back to herself. "Yes. Oh, yes, of course. Go, get some rest." 

Nodding a silent _thank you_ , he staggered off to his room, offering a caring "you too" as he left. Bruce was waiting for him around the corner and Dick didn't even stop to acknowledge him. 

_"She thinks_ she's _overwhelmed?_ " the ghost mocked, arms crossed. _"She thinks she's had a hard couple of days?"_

"Shut up," Dick snapped tiredly, hand trailing along the wall for support. He couldn't even hear his own footsteps through the ringing but of course, good old Bruce came in loud and clear. He was keeping his voice at a respectable level, at least, but it still hit Dick like a truck every time he opened his mouth. "That's not what she meant. She cares," Nightwing insisted.

 _"Oh, no one is doubting that,_ " Bruce replied casually. _"So do you."_

"I do." 

_"Perhaps too much."_

"How would you know?" 

The ghost stopped dead in his tracks. _"Damn. You must really be in a bad way."_

Dick turned on him, his intimidating glare looking just slightly less so under his sweaty bangs. "You know what? I am. I really am in a super fucking bad way right now. And I really don't have time for this." 

Bruce shrugged, unimpressed. _"You can get rid of me at any time."_

Dick huffed, starting back down the hall. "Yeah, you keep saying that. Except I'm pretty sure I'm every time I try, you ignore me." 

_"Maybe because, deep down, you know you should listen to what I have to say."_

"Bruce, if you don't have any important to say for once in your life, why don't you get the fuck out, huh? Or, better yet, leave and never come back. I don't need you to tell me what the hell's going on with my own goddamn body, alright?" 

"Dick?" 

"What!" he snapped, turning to find Gar staring at him. "Gar..." Dick wheezed, his frown of confusion melting into one of regret. "Shit, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap like that." Gar's eyes flickered down the hall and Dick really, really hoped he wouldn't bring up the fact that he had just been arguing with a ghost. 

_"Now you've done it."_

Dick ignored him. Softening his features, he let Dad Mode take over. Dad Mode could handle everything because that's what Dads did. 

_"You're damn right it is."_

Shut the hell up, Bruce. 

"Everything okay, Gar?" 

The boy swallowed, shuffling uncomfortably. "I, uh, couldn't sleep." 

_"That doesn't make sense."_

"That doesn't make sense." 

_"Perhaps I didn't teach you enough tactfulness in our time together."_

Gar shrugged. "Wasn't tired. Couldn't settle down." 

"Why do you think that is?" 

"I couldn't stop thinking about... I, mean, in the last four days, I've..." 

Dick straightened, crossing his arms. Damnit his arm hurt. And it was still bleeding too, not to mention. "Can I give you a piece of advice?" 

"Please." 

Bruce mirrored his pose. _"Oh, this ought to be good."_

"Try. Go to your room, turn the lights down - they don't have to be off if you don't want them to be - and curl up in bed. Get comfy. Read a book if you have to or listen to some quiet music." 

"YouTube?" 

He shrugged, and his lean against the wall was totally intentional and not because his vision straight up disappeared for a second there. "Sure, if that helps. If you start to doze off, let it happen. If not, at least you're relaxed and resting. Trust me, though, it'll come eventually." 

"And if it doesn't?" 

A gentle smirk. "You've been fighting crime for four days straight. It'll come, Gar. And whatever is bothering you, no matter what it is, will look less worrisome in the morning. Or afternoon. Or whenever you wake up." 

The boy lit up, eyes brighter than they've been since Thursday. "We don't have to get up in the morning?" 

_"Hell_ no. We aren't training, no lessons, nothing. If I don't see you by lunch I'll check in, but tomorrow is your day. Do with it as you please." 

He squinted judgmentally. "However I please?" 

Why did everyone in his life love to talk so damn much? "As long as you aren't going to regret it the day after, sure." 

"Nice. Okay, I'll try to get some sleep." He made a move to walk off, but paused, eyeing Dick critically. "You're going to bed too, right?" 

"Was already on the way." 

"Good," he said with sympathy and, dear god, was that _pity_ in his voice? "Okay. Goodnight." 

"'Night, kid." 

Gar disappeared and Dick will never admit how long it took to get off the wall. He might have blacked out standing there in all honesty, because by the time he opened his eyes again the light was different and he was freezing. Or his migraine - because it was definitely a migraine at this point - had gotten even worse along with his sensitivity to light. And maybe he caught a fever because _there was still a bullet hole in his arm, yes, he knew, shut up about it Bruce_. It was a toss of the coin at this point what was wrong with him. Hell, he would be inclined to believe he'd fallen into a time loop trapped in the lint of an intergalactic cat god's pocket if told so. He certainly felt like intergalactic pocket lint. 

Eventually, he made his way, slow and steady, to his room. It was dark - so dark - and his migraine receded by three notches just from that. It was also freezing because he usually kept his AC blasting, but his chilled (probably feverish?) skin needed some heat and desperately so (definitely feverish). He peeled out of his suit, perched on the edge of his bed and groped around in the blackness. The suit stuck to his bloody arm and he needed to wrap it before passing out or he would definitely bleed out in his sleep. 

He couldn't see his hand at the end of his nose but he somehow knew Bruce was lingering like a bad rash, waiting and judging with an encyclopedic arsenal of sass at the ready. 

Dick didn't make it to the bathroom. He went to stand and very rapidly figured out what happened to the body's equilibrium with a raging migraine and no horizon to reference. He titled sideways - he couldn't tell if it was left or right or forward or back - and barely caught himself before he smacked into the ground.

Fuck the bathroom. If he laid on his arm that would give it enough pressure to stop the bleeding. 

He was going to regret this. 

He heard Bruce shuffle in his fine silk suit and blissfully passed the fuck out. 

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

He woke up to Rachel hovering over him, her hair tussled and eyes puffy with sleep. The lights were on and he was on the floor. The fingertips of his injured arm were blue and he couldn't feel them. Probably because he was still laying on it. He shook with pain, blood loss, exhaustion, and fever. She was talking to him - her voice muffled into a static buzz - and he closed his eyes again, rolling onto his back. Her hands were on his chest in worry and he ignored her, blinking dumbly at the ceiling and enjoying how little his head hurt. 

He should probably be hospitalized with a cocktail of pain drugs in his system because of the pain alone, but what an improvement from earlier, right?

She tapped his chest, shaking him, and he flopped his hand on hers. Stop shaking him. He's here.

She squeezed it and he let her flood into his mind, having no strength to protest if he even cared. 

Thanks, Bruce.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For joebrien6 and fearmymagic

The next time Dick woke up, it was to the Tower alarms blaring. Before he had even peeled open his eyes or tossed aside his blanket, his brain was translating the alert and police chatter. He swung his legs off the infirmary cot and sat there for a long moment. Head bowed and eyes closed, he listened to the Tower around him, hearing the Titans rush by the open door. They tossed around questions and answers, someone asking if he was awake yet. 

Regrettably, he was. 

Kory appeared in the doorway, yelling at someone to turn off that damn alarm, right as he was shrugging on his pants. "The hell do you think you're doing?" she questioned. 

He grunted, pointing to the ceiling. The alarm.

She scoffed at him, watching in baffled amazement as he limped his way out of the room. "Grayson, if you think you are going anywhere near that-" 

"It's a _fire,_ Kory. In the Mission District of all places," he mumbled. Rounding the corner, he squinted in the morning light, finding the Titans watching him in various degrees of confusion and expectancy. "Alright, listen up-"

"Bro," Jason interrupted because if it was going to be anyone, it would have been him. "You sure you're up for this?" 

"It's the Mission District." He had been up for three minutes and was already tired of repeating himself. "Civilians from anywhere north of Gall's have been forced to hunker down there since the protests started. And first responders are going to be... reluctant to head so deep into that area to help, especially when they're needed around the Lower Fourth. We are those people's best chance of survival." 

Rachel looked at him. "So, we're doing this?" 

He sighed and scrubbed his face. Everything he said had been true, but he also had to take the Titans' lives into consideration. They were beyond drained and fires were notoriously unpredictable. Flames traveled wherever they wanted, defying all logic and rules. And once a fire got started - especially in a tightly packed living area - it could last for hours or even days before being contained. 

Any other time, literally any other day that wasn't burdened with the _exact_ circumstances of today, he would have called all hands on deck. He had trained these kids well. He had shaped them into a team he was damn proud of. They could handle so much, and he saw more potential in them than they could even imagine in themselves. But fires scared the shit out of him. They always had and as long as he had skin in the game, they always would. 

Kory turned the alarm off. But the noise kept reverberating in his skull, banging up against all the dark corners. 

He had to make a decision; they had already lost so much time standing here waiting for him to finish wringing his hands. 

"No, we're not," he finally declared. And the words left him feeling light enough to pass out. "At least, not all of us. I understand you all are beyond exhausted and I promised you last night that today would be your first day off." He went to cross his arms, then felt the stitches protest and pocketed his hands instead. "I'm giving you the option to take advantage of that. No judgement, no consequences. From anyone. If you truly cannot handle another day out there, then it would be better for everyone if you stayed here. Believe me. 

"If you _can_ handle it, then, yes, we are doing this. Those people need us. I can tell you that..." He glanced at Kory. She shrugged because obviously. Fire was kind of her thing. "...Kory and I are going. None of you are required to join us." 

He paused, letting the offer linger just long enough to avoid being overthought. 

Conner (and Krypto) stepped forward first, which surprised exactly no one. "I'm in." A bark. "Uh, we're in." 

Dick nodded, thanking them silently. 

Jason was next and, again, no one was surprised. The kid would prove himself if it killed him. And Dick would have to keep a close eye on him because after that stunt he pulled last night with the bomb he just might. 

Rachel was hugging herself and keeping her eyes averted. Dick could see she wanted to pass but was afraid to let them (him) down. He looked to Gar, waiting for a response.

The boy shuffled nervously. "Can... can we talk? Just for a sec?" 

Dick worked his jaw, considering it. He remembered that something was troubling the boy last night and if they could spare a few minutes to sort it out, it could save lives. It could also cost an untold amount depending on how easily they could fix whatever the problem was.

"Can it wait?" he finally asked. Because if it could, it needed to. 

The boy gulped, deciding. "Can I just stay here today?" 

Dick should have been ashamed for how quickly he dismissed the boy once he would no longer be useful. "Fine. Conner, Jason, you-"

Gar panicked. "I don't want to stay here!" 

"Gar-"

"Let me take Conner's place. Surveillance, I mean. If he's going out with you, you're going to need somebody to monitor everything, right? I can intercept police chatter and lookup blueprints and stuff for you while you're out." 

Dick wasn't convinced and his head hurt so he looked to Kory for her opinion. She shrugged. "I don't see why not. Could be helpful, especially with Conner in the field." 

"Alright." He turned back to Gar. "Fine. Set up camp in the tech room; it's probably going to be a long day." 

"Thank you!" The boy turned to run off, pausing when Dick called for him. 

"Where are you going?" 

He frowned, pointing a thumb over his shoulder. "...To set up camp?" 

"You need to be debriefed first, just like everyone else." 

"Oh, right! Right, sorry." 

Dick rolled his eyes, redirecting his attention to their young Raven. "Rachel, you're dismissed if you want to leave." 

Head ducked, she nodded and slipped to her room. Dick had promised there would be no judgments or consequences so he let her go, quickly refocusing all eyes on him. He recounted the situation in more detail, handed out assignments, and finished by telling them all to be careful, watch each other's backs, and, please, don't be stupid. 

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

**MISSION DISTRICT**   
**CALIFORNIA**

The protesters had invaded the until now peaceful area, planting bombs and fires all over the urban town. The Titans were walking into an insurgent warzone and Dick half felt bad for endangering the team while the other half argued that they were heroes; they would have to get used to stuff like this. His own words, a soft admittance of regret for making them child weapons all that time ago, came back to remind him he had become exactly what he had hated the most about Bruce. 

News choppers floated above head, reporters holding cameras and yelling in their mics. The Titans regarded them with contempt. 

"Krypto, keep those at a safe distance," Dick responded. The dog barked once and took off into the sky, chasing back helicopters like a normal mutt would herd sheep. Still, not the weirdest thing Dick had ever seen. 

They approached the burning building and could already feel the heat pulsing off it. Nightwing worked his jaw. "We ready?" 

They nodded. 

"Alright. You two are up."

Kory and Conner stepped forward. The woman raised her hand, flames boiling under her skin as the clone pulled in a mighty breath. The fire danced and spun as Kory manipulated it, redirecting and weakening what she could. Conner stepped in to blow out the rest, using his Kryptonian lungs to extinguish enough of the flames for Nightwing and Robin to enter. Breathing masks in place, the Bats entered through the front door and broke off in two different directions. Dick went left followed closely by Conner and they traversed the already burning parts of the structure, looking for survivors. Jason and Kory tried to rescue the newest victims while keeping the flames at bay. Gar monitored everything closely from the tech room, tracking what he could as far as life signs went. Heat signatures were a little difficult to decipher considering the fire and all. 

But first responder chatter he could listen to no problem. He heard the code for fire and slid over to the radio, turning it up. 

"Heads up, guys. You're about to get company," he informed over their headsets. 

The building groaned, fire raging loudly. Dick pressed his palms to his ears, trying to make out the boy's message. Damnit, even six hours of sleep couldn't totally stop the ringing from his ears or throbbing headache. "What?"

_"Fire response is heading your way. ETA ten, maybe fifteen minutes."_

Fire response. So they finally decided to do their jobs, huh?

"It's about time!" Jason yelled, shoving a panicked family of three down the stairs. This part of the building had been relatively unscathed thanks to Kory managing to hold the flames back. She couldn't control the smoke, though, and it seeped into Jason's eyes, making the air thick and heavy despite his breathing mask. "Go, go!" he ordered, pounding on more doors. "Everybody out, let's move!"

Watching their progress and satisfied they had it handled, Gar slid over to check on the other two. "Dick, you're running out of hallway. Take the stairs to the left." 

Nightwing stumbled to a stop, coughing hoarsely. The flames around them were hot and bright, lighting up the building in a dizzying array of light and dark, like a disco of red hot death. The soft drywall had been devoured, leaving naked beams and poles. It made it very difficult to distinguish door from wall, the flames so tall they sometimes covered gaping holes in the structure entirely. 

Dick found a door he guessed was the one Gar was talking about and shouldered it. The wood opened easily, dissolving into dust and ash and he practically fell across the threshold. Conner grabbed his arm to stabilize him, accidentally squeezing the wound from last night. 

"Are you okay?" the clone wondered, not even the slightest bit out of breath. Dick huffed and bit his lip against the pain, wondering why he couldn't have been born an indestructible Kryptonian instead of a squishy human. 

"Let's just keep moving," he replied. They took a step and the wall above them caved, firey chunks of building landing on the stairs. "Damnit." 

Conner nodded positively. "We can still make it." 

Yes, he knew they could still make it. Technically, it was traversable. But it was also on fire and would hurt like hell. He panted, waving forward. 

"You first." 

_"What was that?"_ Kory asked. _"The whole building just shook."_

Dick stepped forward, following the clone's footsteps. Luckily it was quieter in here. "Minor collapse. We're headed to the second floor." 

The second floor was so much more dangerous than the first. At least on the ground floor they had the concrete foundation to catch them if they fell. On the second, and remaining third and fourth floors, it would take a lot longer to find solid ground. And the landing would be a hell of a lot rougher. Which is why he brought Superboy. 

Before they could even make it into the hallway, Conner heard something that wasn't fire or crumbling building and hurried forward. With Gar's heat signatures useless, superhearing was their best bet at finding anyone still alive. Which is the second reason why he was here. There were a lot of reasons. 

The clone stopped by a door, waiting for Dick to stumble after him. "In here!" Raising a hand, he felt the wood. "It's cool!" 

Dick shrugged. Well, that would be why the person was still alive inside. The fire hadn't reached them yet. "Okay, like we talked about. I open, you blow. But softly! Just enough to clear the smoke."

Conner nodded, stepping back. Dick got in position, trying the handle. It jiggled freely and thank god because his shoulder was really starting to get sore. "On three!" 

On three he swung the door open, Conner's powerful breath shooing the densest parts of the smoke away. They heard crying inside and rushed in. Two men were cradled together, holding each other and weeping sorrowfully. Dick spotted an overturned wheelchair and it wasn't too hard to figure out why they hadn't evacuated yet. 

"It's going to be okay!" he said, kneeling before them. "We're going to get you out of here." 

"Tate - he can't walk!" 

Nightwing nodded. "He won't have to. Superboy is going to carry him, alright? Alright, Tate?"

They nodded, sobbing in relief. Dick stood back, allowing Conner to take his place. He swept the crippled man into his arms, carrying him bridal style and being sure to support his head. Dick helped the other stand, arm looped around Dick's shoulders and grabbing his belt from the back. 

"Let's move!" he instructed and Conner lead the way, turning to shield his man from the flames as they entered the hallway. Dick spotted an oxygen tank by the door and panicked for two reasons: one, someone was on oxygen but currently wasn't; and two, pressurized tanks tended to explode. Especially around a lot of heat. He called for Conner and the clone came rushing back. Dick handed his man over, twisting his arms around the hero's neck. He removed his breathing mask, handing it over. "Do not let go of him!" he instructed, securing the mask to his face. "Conner, go!" 

Conner nodded and ran off, disappearing into the flames and smoke. 

Dick grabbed the oxygen tank and hauled it to the apartment's window. Conner's voice came over his radio, informing him of another heartbeat in room 207. "On it!" Dick replied as he hucked the thing outside. It landed... somewhere. He didn't really care. He was needed in 207.

Without his mask to filter the air, the smoke of the hallway soaked into his lungs. He wheezed around it, stumbling to the room Conner had pointed out. Gar's voice came in over his radio, but between the crackling fire, the ringing in his ears, and the damn headache, he couldn't make out a word the boy was saying.

Dick pressed a gloved hand to the door and it singed the thick material. Damnit, this room was hot. Really hot. He drew back and coughed once more for good measure (though it was entirely useless at this point) and burst through the door. The wall collapsed behind him, trapping him in the apartment. It was alarming but fine. He had a friend who could fly. All he needed was a window. 

"Hello?" he called, hacking and tripping through the apartment. There was no furniture left, no electronics or lamps or picture frames sitting on tiny end tables. The only thing in there was fire eating away at indistinguishable piles of flame and smoke. He groped his way to the bedroom, finding the body of an elderly woman halfway between her bed and the bathroom. She was face down, the carpet muffling her face. Probably the only reason she was still alive.

He dropped by her side, shaking her urgently. "Ma'am? Ma'am!" He didn't get a response but what did he expect? Standing, he grabbed a heavy piece of something and sent it flying through her window. The glass shattered but his projectile bounced back. 

The hell?

He swung through the window, gloved hand slapping against metal bars because of _course_ this old woman's window had re-enforced metal bars melded to it. And on the second flood no less. 

"Damnit!" His earpiece was useless to him at this point. Good thing the same friend who could fly also had superhearing. And if all else failed, there was always Krypto. "Conner! 207! South facing window!" Using his limited air supply, he repeated the message and collapsed back to the old lady. "I'm - I'm gonna get you out of here, ma'am!" 

For lack of anything else to do, he rolled her to her back and intertwined his hands, pumping her chest in hopes of keeping her blood moving. It made his vision tilt and darken dangerously but Conner was right outside. He had to be. 

"One, two, three, Conner! 207! South window! Twelve, thirteen, fourteen..." 

The wall cracked as the bars were ripped away, fresh air and natural sunlight exploding into the room. Dick felt dizzy. "I'm here!" Conner said and rushed to his side. 

"Take her..." Nightwing groaned. He might have blacked out, he wasn't sure, but he at least managed to steer himself away from falling on the old lady as he was going down. That would have been embarrassing. He landed on his back, body failing him in every conceivable way. His lungs were unresponsive, his patched bullet hole burned hotter than any flame, and his brain and vision swam in random patterns, going dark for seconds at a time. Bruce had been right. He really was in a bad way. 

Conner deposited the old lady to the waiting paramedics and dashed back to the building. He landed ungracefully inside, stumbling to Nightwing's body. "Dick! Dick!" 

The man huffed weakly. Head rolling, he brought an arm up, offering it to the clone. "Le's go..."

Conner nodded, scooping the man up and leaping out of the room. He aimed more away than down, and they landed a good distance from the paramedics. And media. For some privacy. It was thoughtful. Kory and Jason (who had actually heard Gar telling them to pull back because fire response was here) jogged across the cracked parking lot to join them. 

Dick rolled out of Superboy's arms and collapsed into a heap on the ground. He breathed in the dust and dirt, eyes closed against the sun drilling into his brain. That had been a bad idea. Actually, getting out of bed this morning had been a bad idea. How stupid was he to go in there in his condition and drag his teammates in after him? 

He was so tired. 

_"Looks like the fire is being handled by fire response. Which is good because the badges are getting reports of a possible gunfight-"_

"Shut it, Gar!" Kory snapped. But it was too late. Someone had said "jump" and Dick was already climbing to his feet. Metaphorically, at least. In actuality, he was struggling to lift his head. It just hurt so much. Every little thought lit up an entire network of synapses. And closing his eyes did nothing because he couldn't get them to stop twitching even under the lids. At least when closed they didn't burn so much from all of the smoke and cinders but at what cost, honestly? 

The media had followed Kory and Robin to their little secluded corner and were approaching like the vultures they were. The Titans needed to move. The last thing these protests needed was footage of them of all people, coming down from their ivory tower and shoving their noses into problems that didn't concern them. It was a crazy mentality, but Dick knew how mobs worked. There was no reasoning; only the gnawing and gnashing of teeth. 

They should leave. He knew they should leave. But he had much bigger problems to worry about right now. Like how his lungs were saturated in sticky, oily smoke and how he was quickly losing the ability to breathe. 

Suddenly, a thick laser bit into the ground from above, drawing a line in the sand between the Titans and reporters. The media were forced to back away and the Titans looked up, grinning brightly as their resident good boy landed with a growl. 

"Krypto!" Conner squealed and damn he really loved that dog. 

Jason was less impressed. He turned back to Nightwing. "Alright, big guy. Let's get you up." He grabbed Dick's good arm and pulled. By the grace of god and Kory at his side, the man managed to get to his feet and actually stay there. Although it took a little longer for his brain to catch up because it was still spilled all over the ground. 

"Now you ready to call it a day?" Kory wondered, looking at him worriedly. The sun told him it was afternoon already when they only left this morning. But didn't Gar say something about fire response being only fifteen minutes out? Eh, who knows. Time was a construct anyway. 

Dick had to admit, though, he was getting pretty close to proclaiming "fuck it" and going the hell back to bed. From the pounding in his head to the ringing in his ears to whatever Gar had been so worried about last night, he just wanted to crawl into his soft bed and be absolutely dead to the world for the next seventy-two hours. It's what the Titans deserved. It's what he deserved. 

But it's not how Batman trained him. There were still badges and first responders out in the middle of these protests, working to put a stop to them. And not all of them shared the same moral convictions he did of ask before drawing blood. And not all of them would make it home tonight, either. There would be bloodshed on both sides before this was all said and done.

"I can't," he admitted. As much as he wanted to stop, he couldn't. His dreams would be plagued with guilt even if he did sleep, anyway. So why bother? Just knock him up on some pain drugs, maybe an ice pack and a granola bar, and he'd be as good as new. 

"It has to end, Dick," Kory admonished quietly. "You can't keep going like this. None of us can."

He withdrew his arms and stepped back from them just to make a point. He hurt like hell all over, inside and out, but he could still fight. And if he could still fight, he should. Because people's lives were in danger and he had taken part in enough national incidences in Gotham to know exactly what the guilt of not doing enough felt like. 

Kory rolled her eyes and he could tell immediately that the two of them would never be the same. It hit him like a brick and made his knees weak(er.) "Jesus Christ," she muttered, hands to her face. "You're insane. You are certifiably insane, do you realize that? Is your guilt complex that strong you actually want to die a martyr? Are you actively trying to work yourself to death? Because that's sure as shit what's happening." 

"Kory-"

"No. No. I do not want to hear it. In fact, you know what? Conner." 

The clone snapped to attention, frowning at her.

She nodded to Dick. "Take him back to the Tower, would you? I don't care how hard he fights." 

Dick staggered back, hand out. "Kory, wait-" 

"Sorry, Dick," Conner apologized, approaching him way too fast for his liking. He just couldn't crawl back fast enough, not in this condition. 

Kory growled at him, flames revving to life inside of her. "Dick, shut up! I am through with this! I am not about to stand here and watch you kill yourself. So you are going back to the Tower, I am dragging your ass to the infirmary and stitching up your arm _again._ And you are going to do it. Willingly or not, I honestly don't give a damn." 

Conner bear-hugged the man from behind and Dick was helpless to stop him. "Kory, please." 

Robin shrugged and another stone flew against the cracked stained glass that was Dick's sanity. "She's right, bro. She's seen it, I've seen. We've all seen it. You gotta sleep, man. Give it a rest. One way or another." 

Except he didn't. He really didn't. He had gone longer without sleep. And he just had six hours of it last night. That was more than enough for him. 

"They need me..." he tried. 

" _We_ need you!" Kory snapped back. "And Gar and Rachel - the _Titans_ need you, Dick. And we can't let this continue. I know you're trying to do good, but this is self-destructive." 

His glass house came crumbling down. His friends, his teammates, his former (current?) lover, betraying him. They didn't trust him - not even to handle himself. He was broken to them and they would discard him. Everything stilled. This was the end. First Rachel refusing to help today, then Kory and now Jason? Did he not have a friend in the world? Did no one care about him, about his needs? Because he needed to do this. People needed him and it was his duty to help them. And if he wasn't fulfilling his duty, what was he? A directionless, inconsequential speck is what he was. 

They betrayed him. Next, they would leave him. It's what he deserved. 

He slumped into Conner's arms. 

"Let's go." 

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

**TITANS TOWER**   
**SAN FRANCISCO**

It had taken some negotiating, but he had eventually convinced them he didn't need to be restrained. They could do anything else they wanted to him - order him around, pump him full of sedatives, (tell him what a shit he was to his face,) it didn't matter - but cuffs were taking it too far. 

He wouldn't go back to cuffs. Not ever again. Not in this place, his home. 

The pain drugs had knocked him out almost instantly. They had worked so fast, the Titans were confident they could shower and take a nap themselves and he still wouldn't be awake once they were done. Though the drugs were remarkable at getting him unconscious, making him stay asleep was an entirely other issue. Four hours later he woke up, feeling just as miserable as when he had gone down, except this time with the added fun of drug-induced paralysis as his body refused to follow him to consciousness. So he was left to lay in the infirmary, stare out the window, and listen to Bruce's incessant recountings of all the times he had told him so. 

It sucked. He sucked. Everything sucked and it was all his fault. His guilt complex (or maybe it was a god complex? It was definitely a complex of some sort) had led the Titans to the point of exhaustion and then shoved them screaming over the edge. Going for days on end with barely time to think was just like the good old days, he kept telling himself. Like those times back in Gotham, when the only two who suffered from their workload was him and Bruce. And they had fed off each other, each refusing to back down until they literally couldn't stand or think straight anymore.

The Titans weren't like that. It was an entirely new mode of operating, dynamics he had never been a part of or experienced before. It even differed from the old Titans, who had liked to believe they were better separated from their masters but wound up being just as self-destructive. He remembered sparring sessions that had lasted five, six hours. And wishing the sun goodnight infinitely more than the moon. They were rowdy kids - good kids, most of them - but were tasting freedom for the first time and sorta kinda addicted to the feeling of owning the streets, of being regarded as heroes and not sidekicks. 

He closed his eyes with a deep sigh. He had been wrong. Heroes weren't junkies in their civilian lives. They were junkies in all of their lives, all of them addicted to one thing or another. Donna must have been addicted to picking up his sorry ass because she certainly did it enough. Her only flaw was caring. And him? What was he addicted to?

"Why are you awake?" Rachel asked in a self-consciously quiet tone that meant everyone else was still in bed.

He opened his eyes, watching her reflection in the window. "Why are you?" he rasped, voice torn to shreds from all the smoke. 

" _I_ took the morning off and slept all day." She pulled up a chair, sitting by his side and crossing her arms on the mattress. He grinned at her affectionately, patting the top of her head. "And you?" she continued. "How come you aren't still knocked out from the cocktail of drugs they gave you?"

Because he was overthinking like he always did. Because he would rather kill and be killed than let it slip that he was a mere mortal man. Because weaknesses belonged to the weak. And he couldn't be anything but perfect. 

"Dick?" she prodded and took his hand. "We're worried about you." 

Love was a liability. And everyone left once they had had enough of his shit, his lies, his everything. It was inevitable. He had already screwed over Kory to the point she was forced to betray him. Gar still needed a talking to - not another rude dismissal. And Jason was relying on him to lead, to teach, to train. Bruce would be so disappointed if he knew what Dick had done. 

"Sorry." He really was too. But not enough to change. Dancing with the devil was easier than fighting him. It was a tricky game they played, give a little soul and get a little peace of mind for a time. 

"Have you been taking [your meds](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22783012)?" And there it was. The secret everyone knew but no one mentioned. 

He looked away again, thinking. "Not since everything started. Didn't have time." So four, five days ago? He didn't need them, he told himself. They were just when things got out of hand. And he had been handling everything fine. Until he wasn't.

"You think maybe this is a result of that?" 

" 'This'?" he repeated, frowning at her. "What 'this'?" 

"You know." She gestured vaguely to his entire body, stuck in a drug-induced paralysis in the infirmary with barely functioning lungs and a bullet hole in his arm. " _This_. This whole week. Your crazy martyr thing? I was there, Dick. In the tech room, with Gar, listening to you have your meltdown. I heard Kory shut you down and you argued with her that you were fine. That you could still go, be out there, fight." 

Okay, he was pretty sure he didn't actually say all of that out loud, but he supposed his actions had spoken for him rather clearly.

"Don't try to coddle me and tell me that you're fine, that everything will be okay, that you'll magically work it all out. I've been there, remember? I was with you back in Detroit. Way back at the beginning of all of this, before Jason, or Gar, or even Kory. It was just you and me, together. Ride or die - sleeping in shitty motels and eating shitty pizza." She looked at him, clear eyes earnest and pleading. "You and Kory may have been whatever-it-was you were, but I _know_ you, Dick. Probably better than anyone alive. Certainly better than anyone here. And you know you can't lie to me." 

He couldn't. And suddenly he didn't want to. 

"I'm sorry," he whispered, eyes shifting to stare into the deepest parts of himself, at a ghost no one else saw. "I can't stop. If I stop, people could die." 

She moved to sit on the mattress next to him, hands folded around his. "But that's not all, is it?" 

Working his jaw, he looked out the window. His reflection stared back and he realized how pathetic he was. She was going to leave him anyway, so what was a little bearing of the soul amongst friends? It couldn't hurt that much. (But it will.)

"I have to prove that I'm good enough. And that you all are good enough too. Because you - this - is all I have left. There aren't any more chances for me if I lose this. I don't get a do-over. I don't get another shot at being anything - this is it. And if I squander it, if I let you all down, then..." He shrugged, long lashes wet. "Then what was the fucking point?" 

She stared at him before finally turning away with a loud eye roll. "My god, you are so pathetic." 

"What?" 

"You really made this all about you? _That's_ where your motivation comes from? Some big fear that if you don't make us into the perfect little human soldiers then, what? Your reputation gets hurt?" 

"Rachel, it's-"

"Rachel?" Kory said from the doorway and the two turned to her quickly. She met Dick's eyes and sighed angrily. "Should I even be surprised?" 

"Kory, it's not-" 

"You should be _asleep,_ Grayson! Resting! Recovering! Is _any_ of this ringing a bell?" 

He looked away dejectedly. Screwed up again. If there was any hope that she would stick around, it was gone now. Not only had he disappointed her, but he had dragged Rachel into it too. He was a bad influence. It would be better for them if they left. 

The woman sighed, hand to her face. "Rachel, come on," she said, holding out a hand. 

"Why?" the girl retorted. 

Dick sighed, turning to her. "Rachel, please, just-" 

"No! No, I'm - there's nothing with us _talking,_ is there? And it's not like I woke him up or anything anyway." 

Kory's green eyes turned on him and he had to look hide from her intensity. "You weren't even asleep?!" 

"The drugs wore off. Couldn't fall back asleep," he admitted shamefully. This was just getting worse and worse and the guilt of it all was tearing him apart, stinging his eyes. "Rachel, I'm sorry. You're fine, just... please go." 

Kory's arms were crossed in annoyance. "He's right, Rachel. We need to talk anyway." 

The girl made a face. "Oh, so you two can talk but I can't?" 

"Everything okay?" Gar wondered from the doorway, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. 

Dick rolled his eyes, turning to the window. Why not just make it a party? They can call Dawn and Hank to come and yell at him too. 

Kory looked at the boy. "No, Gar. But I'm sorry if we woke you."

"You didn't. I, uh, couldn't really sleep." 

Shit. Gar still needed to talk. About what Dick had no idea. But it should have handled a long time ago. Instead, here Dick was, barely able to move his limbs as the world spun into chaos around him. Kory was still snapping at him and he wondered why on earth he had ever agreed to letting them drug him like this. If he could move he could at least make a break for it, run away, jump out the window, who cared? 

_"You could always say something, you know."_

And then there was good old Bruce because of fucking course there was good old Bruce. The ghost was leaning against the large window, shielding Dick from his own reflection. 

_"Something helpful - profound, even."_

He had already apologized. 

_"Oh yes, and it was riveting, truly. So well-rehearsed I even thought you meant it. Clearly not, though. Or_ this _wouldn't be happening right now."_

Jason had joined the fray at this point, yelling at them to shut up. To which Kory yelled back, pissed off and righteously furious. Gar huddled against the wall, waiting for an opportunity to jump in but hoping it didn't come. Rachel, still clutching Dick's hands, frowned at him. He looked at her for an insightful moment and she searched his eyes, wondering if she was feeling this right. In shame, he turned away and she knew that she was. It was overwhelming and he was cracking, dizzy from the noise and bogged down from the pressure. 

His ears started ringing loudly and he hissed, wincing in pain. 

"Dick...?" 

"Just leave," he muttered, managing to raise a hand to his face. It collapsed heavily on his chest and he pressed his head into the pillow, grunting in discomfort. "Please, just leave me alone." 

Kory waved her hand. "I couldn't agree more! Everyone out!" 

Noticing his pain, Gar stepped forward with a frown. "Did your drugs wear off, already?" He checked the clock. Dick should still have a few more hours left. 

_"It's all unraveling like someone found that one loose string and..."_ Bruce motioned to the room. _"Pulled."_

"Shut up," Dick mumbled back. He knew it was falling apart but there was shit all he could do about it right now. 

Another spike of pain in his head had him gasping audibly, trying to curl toward the window for some privacy. 

"Why are you all still standing here?" Kory asked loudly. 

Jason crossed his arms defiantly. "Because you aren't the boss of me." 

"Oh, I'm not, am I?" the woman snorted back. 

Gar touched Dick's shoulder and he flinched. "Dick, do you need more pain drugs?" 

Rachel was watching Dick carefully. "It's not that." She squeezed his hand, hoping to get a read on what was troubling him, but he yanked back.

"Just leave me alone!" he yelled. Suddenly, he was upright in bed, hair tussled and eyes wild in rage. Gar and Rachel had retreated several inches but the whole room was looking at him in shock. It was suffocating. "Get out! All of you! Get out and-" His breath hitched and he coughed, air tearing into his shredded throat. Gar made a move to help and Dick waved him back. 

"I said get out of here!" His arms shook and he collapsed onto the mattress, propped up on an elbow and hacking into his fist. "Go!" 

Bruce rolled his eyes, unimpressed. It pissed Dick off more than anything else had so far. More than the yelling, more than the betrayals and drama. 

"Fuck off, already!" he yelled, waving an arm through the air.

Kory was suddenly in front of him, his wrist caught in her iron grip. "Stop!" she commanded and he blinked. He looked at his hand and followed it to Rachel's face, mere inches away. The girl pulled in a shaky breath, Gar rushing to pull her back a few steps. Even Bruce had gone quiet. 

"Shit..." Dick gasped. The ringing pierced his brain in two with another loud spike. He curled in on himself in pain, free hand pulling at his hair. 

"Everyone out," Kory instructed. 

They fled the room like it was on fire. 

The woman released his wrist. "What is wrong with you, Dick?" 

"I didn't mean to-" 

"I know." Kinder than a saint, she touched his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. He was repulsed by her care and flinched away, yanking himself from her tenderness. Her green eyes shone with hurt and he hated himself all the more. "You have two options. You talk to me or I call Dawn and you talk to her instead." 

Immediately, he rejected both. "No. No, I can't do that to her." 

"I guess it's me, then." 

"Kory, you - you don't have to-" 

"Clearly, I do." Patiently, she waited, arms crossed, for him to spill his secrets. She wouldn't leave until he came clean and they both knew it. But if he started talking now, he wouldn't stop. He needed to give her something, just enough of something to buy him some time. 

_"Time for what? To materialize another excuse? To forge a fourth, fifth apology and hope that this one sticks?"_

"I don't know," he hissed back. 

_"Oh, and you were doing so well up until that point."_

Kory grabbed his chin and redirected his large eyes to hers. "Focus, Grayson. Stop talking to the voices and start talking to me." 

Bruce sniffed, wiping his nose. _"That's a clever one you got there. I wonder how long it'll be until she figures out you're just shit held together by broken promises and empty words."_ The ghost appeared over Kory's shoulder, peering at her face. _"How long until she leaves you too?"_

Dick's eyes flickered over to Kory's, watching him expectantly. "I need my meds. I - I haven't taken them all week." 

"So _that's_ what this is about?" 

_"No!"_

"Yes!" 

_"Not even remotely!"_

The woman paused, looking for what to say. "I'll see if you can take them now. Not sure when the other drugs are supposed to wear off." 

"Thank you." 

_"You coward. You're a disgrace. Here she is, ready and willing to listen to you. You're just too scared of your own stinking shit to tell her the truth."_

Dick swallowed. "Kory... I... I don't know what's wrong with me." 

Kory smiled at him, a real genuine smile that lit up his entire world, filling up all of his cracks and dark corners with safe, warm light. "There he is," she cooed quietly, lowering herself to sit on the bed next to him. "Welcome back, Dick." 

He grinned back at her, best he could with his miserable features. He didn't need to look behind him to see Bruce fading away.

"I'm sorry." 

"For once, don't apologize. Explain." 

"I'll try." 


End file.
